Yuck, Philosophy
by Periphrasm
Summary: The guys have an uncomfortable conversation in the car. This came to me when I found out about "wincest." Does not contain wincest. Rated T to be safe.


This is based on an actual exercise we did in one of my philosophy classes. Ew, ew, ew.

I decided to turn this into a story because I just kind of found out about "wincest." I can see where people are coming from, I guess, because the guys have great chemistry, but they are _brothers_. I'm not into it, but I'm also not judging.

Note: Someone pointed out that I kind of bashed _The Secret Window,_ but I have no negative feelings toward the movie. My version of Dean does. It's a lovely movie with screwdrivers and hatchets and crazies in cool hats. Watch it sometime.

* * *

**Yuck, Philosophy**

"You ever thought about incest?"

Dean was snapped out of his trance-like state by the sheer unexpectedness of his brother's words. The only response he could formulate was a strangled, "Huh?"

"You know, relatives going at it," Sam clarified.

"Yeah, I got that," Dean choked out, his throat dry from hours of disuse.

"Have you?"

"Dude, what the hell? You comin' onto me or something?" Dean joked. He gave a half smile that was laced with worry for his brother's mental state. Maybe the long hours on the road had finally gotten to him, or the unblocked sun through the Impala's windows had fried his freakishly large brain.

"Yes, Dean, you're just too hot to resist." Sarcasm practically drowned the words.

Grinning at his brother's retort, Dean returned his focus to the empty country road. The scene before him stretched out like a gray and beige carpet of boredom. Once in a while things got interesting when someone planted soy beans instead of corn. "Well, what am I supposed to think, you freak," Dean jabbed, "Besides, I am _that_ hot, man."

Sam gave an eye roll that even Dean could be proud of before continuing on. "Seriously, though, when you think about it—"

"Dude, you're talking about incest and I'm supposed to take you seriously?"

"—it's kind of interesting. At some point in history it had to have been done purely for survival. Whether humans were created or evolved, they didn't start out with a ton of them."

"Uh huh. Let's stop for lunch," Dean deflected.

Sam gave him a look and glanced around, his eye meeting nothing but fields and dirt and fields and roads and fields. "Right, we'll just pull off and grab some corn to go." Three seconds of silence were followed by, "A lot of monarchies were inbred, and a lot of religious texts have people marrying siblings. It was a tradition to marry your cousin back when—"

"Dude, no. Not another philosophical and _beyond_ disturbing chat," Dean refused. That was one thing he didn't like about the hours in the Impala – it gave his brother way too much time to think. And where there was a Sammy and thinking, a conversation necessarily followed.

"Talking about something doesn't mean you wanna do it, Dean, or that you agree with it," Sam said with a sigh. Then, with an evil grin, "I can control myself, you know." He reached out and pinched Dean's cheek, the result of which was a sharp hit to his wrist. He laughed and pulled his hand back.

"Don't touch me," Dean muttered.

"So, eventually people found out that reproducing with someone who has similar genetics can seriously screw up the kids. End of tradition. So now it's illegal to marry someone who's too closely related to you."

"Thank God."

"But let's say…"

"No, let's not."

"…that there's this brother and sister who go on vacation after graduating from college; they go to France or somewhere—"

"Well, that makes more sense."

"—And they decide to have sex."

"Ugh, not in the mood for lunch anymore."

"So, he uses a condom and she's been on birth control. They do it, have fun, but decide not to do it again. They just keep it as something between them and are even closer because of it," Sam continued.

"Do you realize how messed up this sounds?"

Sam ignored him and kept contemplating aloud, "So was it wrong of them?"

"It was illegal," Dean pointed out.

"But that law is to prevent genetic problems with kids. They took precautions."

"Which can fail."

"True. So maybe it was wrong of them to risk it. But let's say—"

"I swear I'll rip out your vocal cords, Sam."

"—That one of them is infertile. Still wrong?"

"Still illegal," Dean repeated.

"So is almost everything we do," Sam reminded him.

"Dude, we are so not going there. I don't care how many people think we're gay."

Sam pretended to contemplate for a moment before snapping fingers in an overly dramatic manner. "Well dagnabbit, there goes my whole plan," he said flatly.

Dean shot him a look. "_Dagnabbit?_ Seriously? Christo."

"Cute. I'm just saying that just because something is illegal doesn't make it wrong. Just because it's wrong doesn't make it illegal, either."

Dean sighed and adjusted his grip on the wheel, wishing he'd thought to drug Sam's morning coffee. He should just make a habit of sedating him for their daily travel and save himself a lot of headaches. "Your point?" he asked, knowing nothing would end the conversation until Sam got it out of his system.

"No point, really. Just speculation." Sam shifted in his seat, tilting his head away from the bright beam of sunlight in his eyes and stared at Dean expectantly.

Dean rolled his eyes. Now the dork wanted Dean's opinion on the whole mess.

"Fine, if it'll get you to shut up. I think it's still wrong because no matter what those two freaks say, there's gonna be some psychological, physical or some other consequence for…that. I mean, they're freaking brother and sister, and something like that is going to screw with their relationship if not their whole lives. Having sex with some random stranger who you're not gonna see all the time and don't _share parents with_ can be traumatic for some people, so I'm thinking this has gotta be worse."

Sam said nothing, just stared at him with the beginnings of a grin on his face. Dean frowned in irritation. "What?" he demanded. When Sam still said nothing, Dean growled out, "Dude, you don't say something and end this, I swear I'll kill you and bury your body under all this damn corn where no one will find you."

"Very _Secret Window _of you," Sam answered.

"Lame movie," Dean snorted.

"Lame murder plot, genius," Sam retorted.

"Whatever, man. Only girls like that movie."

"Right, with the screwdriver and everything, it's a real chick flick."

"Just shut up and talk about something else. Are we done with the whole incest thing, now?" he asked hopefully.

"Just never knew you could be so philosophical, Dean," Sam teased.

"Whatever, just tell me we're done."

"Fine," Sam replied.

For a while there was no sound but the tires of the Impala speeding across the old asphalt of the back road. Then, "It is gross, though," Sam said, grimacing.

"Dude, no more."

**END**


End file.
